[A/N: That last chapter wasn’t supposed to be so long, but somehow it became that way. The urge to write was on me, and well, I let the muse control it. I just copied down what he wanted. Blame it all on him. The title is from the Bard of Avon, Sonnet CXVI and quotes are as attributed. Disclaimers, as ever, are in full force and effect.]
Previously: Giles and Anya have bonded; Spike and Buffy had their first meeting with Drusilla, which prompted some heavy thoughts from both of them. This picks up immediately.
Book Two, chapter 23. An ever fixed mark.
For you and for me the highest moment,
the keenest joy,
is not when our minds dominate but when we lose our minds.
Anais Nin, Feb. 1932 from Henry and June
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me prov’d
I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.
Sonnet CXVI
Her smile faded a bit when she heard him say forever. “Spike, I don’t have forever.”
He grabbed her shoulders and held her still. “We don’t know that. Gonna have as long as I can give you, an’ even then it doesn’t matter. I’ll love you for the whole five minutes I have after you’re gone.”
Buffy’s brow wrinkled as she said, “five minutes? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Coz, sweetheart, I’m not living if you aren’t. Not going through that again. Chances are no one’ll be stupid enough to try an’ bring you back a third time.” He held on, his fingers almost digging into her muscles, willing her to understand what he was saying. “I couldn’t. . . not even for Lil Bit.”
“Oh. You . . . love me that much?” Her small hand reached up to run down his angular cheek, her eyes on his.
“Yeah. Been tryin’ to say that.” His hold on her eased a bit, letting her relax in his arms. “So?”
“So. . . you are asking me to . . . asking if I want us to belong to each other?” She was stunned, in a way. He was – the few times she’d paid attention when Giles was going over claims and mating, she understood that it was unbreakable, that it was powerful and that it was forever, more binding that any ring or legal documents could ever be – asking her to take a monumental step in their relationship.
It had only been a few months. . . since her return, since they’d become a couple. Was she ready for this? This was a huge commitment, bigger than anything she’d thought. She and Spike had sort of just drifted into this relationship, bypassing the dating thing she’d done with Riley. Unfair comparison Buffy, Spike is completely different from Riley. . . and stop thinking about him. Pushing him out of her mind, Buffy focused on Spike. He was pretty much everything she ever wanted but didn’t know; everything she needed and hadn’t realized. So what if it was only months. . . she had the sudden feeling that it wouldn’t have mattered if it was only days.
Buffy was silent for so long that Spike braced himself for the rejection he believed was coming. He looked away from her, his jaw clenched and body poised to get up and leave her alone, because he didn’t think he could sleep next to her if she refused him. She opened her mouth and Spike’s every muscle tensed.
“You want me to be yours. You want to be mine. That’s what you’re asking me, right?”
She wished he would look at her, because this was just so hard to say, so terrifying to admit.
“Yeah. ‘S what I’m askin’.” Her finger traced over his lips, and he unconsciously kissed the tip.
“Then maybe you wanna look at me when you get your answer.” Her words were a bare whisper between them.
Spike glanced down, prepared to look away quickly when he saw denial and was instead trapped by the love he found swimming in her eyes. Her hands pulled his forward, linking their fingers together. She opened her mouth, to say it, when her answer got caught in her throat and all she could do was nod her head in a yes. “Is that a yes, kitten? Coz I need to hear it.”
His voice was as quiet as hers had been and she finally managed to get it out. “Yes. That was a yes.”
The rumbling in his chest vibrated through her and Buffy melted into his arms. “Love you kitten, I do. Always.”
“Me too Spike.” She leaned closer into him and he could feel every inch of her against him and that was no longer enough. He needed to feel her around him, letting him sink into her depths.
Seemed like they both had had enough of talking, because the same instant his hands snaked beneath her shirt, hers wormed their way under his tee shirt lifting it up so that she could feel his skin. When they were both naked from the waist up, Spike leaned forward, reverently kissed both her nipples and then latched onto one of them. His hands caressed her and Buffy held him to her, her fingers smoothing up and down his sleek back, then resting in his curls.
His lips traced a path across her breasts, finding her other nipple. One hand wrapped around her, settling into the small of her back while his thumb made lazy circles over her puckered nipple.
She was melting, falling into him, wanting more when he moved, lifting her away from his mouth and hands. Buffy whined his name and Spike grinned a little, growling, “kitten, wanna be inside you, but this isn’t gonna work with clothes on.”
Standing her up, Spike popped the buttons on her pants, sliding them down to her feet in the same motion. One hand trailed up her inner thighs, parting her legs. His low rumbles of pleasure went right through her and he could sense the shift in her.
“C’mere.” he growled out as he pulled her closer. Buffy drifted toward him, gasping a little as two fingers slid up into her warmth. All her attention was focused on his fingers, the sensation of him gliding in and out of her, his thumb pressing on her clit. She wavered on her feet, her knees buckling at bit, forcing her to hold onto his shoulders.
One handed Spike somehow managed to get his boots undone and was working on getting them off his feet, trying to work the buttons on his jeans at the same time. Buffy broke free of the haze of want surrounding her to realize that he was struggling to get naked. Her small hands slid down his torso, cupping his ass under the denim. He stood, his fingers trailing wetly up and around her breasts. Buffy’s hand traced up his hipbone, over the hard planes of his shoulder and chest, finally resting on his face, her thumb tracing patterns over his lips. A soft smile bloomed across her features and one word slipped from her.
It was all the signal he needed. She’d done it. Said she wanted it and now. . . “Yeah, kitten. Yours.”
He closed the small distance between them, his erection hard against her belly, his arms reaching out to hold her close. They met each other in the distance between, lips melting together, tongues clashing. His hands were under her ass, lifting her up and Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist. “Need to feel you kitten. . . need you.”
Spike laid them down on the bed, his cock teasing at her entrance. “Now Spike, please.” She panted into his mouth, begging him to take her.
Shifting his hips, Spike pushed up and in, kissing her deeply at the same time. Buffy opened herself, guiding him in, her breath hitching when he finally slid in all the way. A tiny grunt of pained pleasure was forced from her and she whispered softly, “oh. You . . fill me.”
“Buffy. . . “ he was thrusting hard, angling deep, his forehead resting on hers. “Love you. Love you. . . . love you.”
Tears sprang to her eyes and she dug her fingers into his back, holding on. “Spike. . . Spike. . . “
Hard and fast he pounded into her, unable to slow down, thrusting out of control. His hips were pistoning into her and Buffy was writhing beneath him, holding on, her legs against him and Spike was going to. . . his balls were tight and hard and he knew she was close because she was frantically moving in time and his fangs were itching to taste her and he reared back, lifting her with him and he licked a path across her throat once and struck.
Buffy shrieked once as her first orgasm hit, then clamped her own teeth down on his neck and Spike was lost.
Her blood was on his tongue, inside him and he could feel her. . . every part of her, knew when her tears stopped then started again. His hips stilled, their gasping panting breaths filling the air, her tears pooling in the hollow of his shoulder and Spike felt his own tears welling up. He licked his marks closed, savoring the feel of her everywhere on him, her coppery sweet taste in his mouth.
Spike looked into her eyes, both wet with tears, his hands cupping her head, whispering softly, “mine.” He inhaled deeply, breathing out, “always. Forever. Mine. Till everything fades away an’ there’s nothing left.”
Buffy’s smile wavered a bit, fresh tears falling again. “Yes. Yours.”
His lips were gently on hers, then he whispered, “your turn.”
Her smile broke through the tears and she asked, “this means you can’t ever leave me, right?”
“Means I won’t. . . but yeah.” He waited, wondering what she was about to do.
Her arms circled round his head and she gave a good imitation of his growl, saying, “mine. . . mine. . . mine.”
Spike laughed then from sheer relief, then said back to her, “yours. Always. F’rever.”
Buffy’s head dropped down onto his shoulder, her breath warm against his skin. They were both quiet, neither one wanting to break the silence, Connor shifted in his crib, let loose a soft howl, then stilled again.
It seemed to break the silence between them and Buffy kissed the broken skin on his neck, feeling him shudder. His movement caused ripples through her and Buffy shifted a bit on his lap. “I’m not gonna get all fangy, am I?”
Spike laughed again, this one hard enough to forcefully remind her they were still intimately joined. “No. Though no one’s ever claimed and mated a slayer before. According to Rupert they were only potentials. Don’t rightly know what this is gonna do.”
“Spike?” There was a strange note in her voice.
“Yeah?” He leaned back a bit to look down at her.
“Can you never ever mention Giles again when we’re. . . . “
His laughter rumbled through both of them and he fell back, bringing her with him. She landed hard, and his hips bucked up, flexing in reaction. Instantly his expression changed and Spike reached up to cup her breasts. “That’s it kitten, need you again.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They had practically run from the house, barely taking time to say good night to the two blonds and give them an update on the whereabouts of the two children. Giles didn’t question them on how patrol went, eager for once to escape the scrutiny of the normally too perceptive vampire. But Spike hadn’t noticed anything amiss, hadn’t picked up on the awkward atmosphere between himself and Anya, which was a blessing in and of itself.
He was quiet on the drive to the apartment she shared with Xander, unsure of what to say or how to broach any subject. Giles had come to appreciate much about the ex-demon, including her wit and drive, and he was beginning to suspect that he might harbor more than friendly or co-worker affection for the girl. But there was the very real complication of her current romantic partner. Until she gave him some indication that they were no longer a couple, Giles had to operate under the assumption they were. And he wasn’t a poacher. He’d wait until she was free; If she ever decided to cut the boy loose.
But until then, he wasn’t going to make a move.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dawn heard them come in, heard Spike’s voice from the top of the stairs telling her they were home, then the slam of the front door indicating Giles and Anya had left quickly. Anya was strange, but she was cool, and since life was pretty good, Dawn wanted everyone to be happy.
Finishing up her laundry, Dawn headed for the living room, fully expecting to find Spike settled and already channel surfing. Instead the room was dark, only one light on and he was nowhere to be found. That was a surprise, because it was barely midnight and he rarely went to bed this early. Shrugging her shoulders, Dawn flipped on the television, curled up on the couch and prepared to watch bad late-night shows.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy was draped over him, one leg curled over his hips, his cock still nestled in her depths and she was snoring lightly. Spike was wide awake though, his thoughts on the girl in his arms, one hand making idle circles on her bare back. He couldn’t sleep. Almost didn’t want to. He was listening to the sounds of Buffy’s and Connor’s breathing and heartbeats, his mind on what he and Buffy had just done.
It was the single most important moment of his existence. He had no words to explain to Buffy what it meant to him, how important her acceptance and yes, he could admit it now, her love meant. Buffy shifted, her mouth brushing against his skin in an unconscious kiss, and he fought off a shiver. Spike ran his hand over her from hip to shoulder, watching her as the skin of her back almost rose to meet his touch. She was gold and sunshine, her whole existence warming him, everything about her . . . There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. Wasn’t anything . . . he’d go out and slay demons for her every night, protect those she loved – anything she wanted. Emotions clogged in his throat, choking him, and Spike felt a sudden need to look at her face, to look into her eyes and tell her what he was feeling.
Rolling over gently, Spike rearranged their bodies and limbs so that he was laying over her; his arms going round her head, his hands ghosting through her hair. He studied her face in the dark, the only light now from a candle he’d lit much earlier, that was beginning to gutter, casting wavering shadows over her features. “I love you. So much. “
He’d slipped from her warmth during the shift and he wanted back in; wanted to stay inside her forever, become part. . . they were a piece of each other, half of a whole that had been broken for so long. Spike didn’t necessarily believe in the idea of soulmates, but he understood that there was more in heaven and earth that defied description. They defied description. He also didn’t believe in fate or destiny, life and unlife had thrown him too many curves to believe any longer, but he knew there was life after death, hell he was unliving proof of that. . . but the other kind of life after death; finding a piece of heaven when you least deserved it or least expected it. He’d found it, here, in her arms. With her. Sometimes he wondered if maybe he should still believe in destiny. . . .
He sat up a bit, looking down at the still sleeping woman beneath him. Of their own volition, his hands stroked over her every curve, feather light and reverent. His eyes drank in her appearance. That this. . . was granted to him, when he’d least deserved any being’s kindness humbled him, altered him in ways that he might never begin to fathom, made him more than what he was, more than the failed poet, more than the violent demon. . .
Following his fingers, Spike laid gentle kisses in a path from her belly to her breasts, unaware of the tears that pooled in his eyes. She’d been gone. Taken from him, from all of them. He’d never thought to see her again. Her light had gone out, extinguished too soon, in fight to preserve everything she loved. And he’d wept. Mourned her loss. Flung his tears and anger at the heavens, raging at a universe that had taken the one beautiful thing in his life, leaving him bereft. Empty.
His love was a fierce feral beast inside him, raging against what had been torn away, unable to truly wreak the havoc he’d wanted too when she was gone.
He’d raged, using the only things he had, fists and fangs, destroying the only things he could – his own kind. And his one fervent prayer – the only one he could ever remember saying for a very, very long time – his only request of the universe, had been granted.
Never had he wanted it granted in the way it had been, would have preferred to let her be in peace, but that wasn’t to be. She’d been given back to a world that didn’t appreciate her, didn’t know what it had in her – and to him.
She was back, flesh and blood and warm. . . oh god, warm beneath him, breathing, living. But she was broken. Broken by her journey back, broken by the heartache that had gone before; by life and heartbreak. And yet, she’d begun the inevitable process of healing. Starting with him. Buffy had wanted him, needed him – took strength from him.
And now here he was. With her. In their bed, their house.
Spike felt the pull of the poet he once strove to be raging through him, urging him to put pen to paper and compose something, anything to convey to her the breadth and depth of his emotions. Tamping down that urge, instead, he let his body worship hers, his lips reverently tracing every part of her, his words, meager as they were, a benediction, a plea, all whispered in gratitude for what they had now. “Love you, Buffy. So much.”
Kisses interspersed with words flowed from him, washing over the still form of his mate, his entire being focused on her. “Always. Forever.”
So intent upon her was he, yet still he missed the signs, missed the wakening and missed the tears falling silently at his hushed words of adoration; until warm hands reached to cup his cheek, tracing their own patterns on his alabaster skin.
She didn’t speak, listening instead to his deep rumbling tomes wash over her. Lines long forgotten from an old Scottish poem he barely remembered his grandfather reciting to his grandmother flashed into his head and he used it to tell her what he was feeling.
“You are the star in my every night.” His lips trailed across her belly, his hands caressing her gently.
“You are the brightness of every morning.” Spike licked and suckled at her nipples. “You are the face of my sun.”
His mouth licked a path upwards, toward her mouth. He caught the look in her eyes and all words, all thoughts fled. “‘m yours. All I ever was, ever will be. . . love you so much.”
Buffy threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him to her. “Spike.” She couldn’t talk, couldn’t think of anything to say that would compare to his words. So she showed him.
Her lips sought his, her hands slid across his sleek muscles, her body that called to his.
Following his earlier actions, Buffy laid soft kisses over his shoulders, tiny little teasing things, designed to drive him mad.
“Kitten. . . need you . . . need inside.” Suiting action to word, Spike nestled between legs, his cock bumping against her clit. “C’mon love, lemme in.”
Buffy shifted, opening herself, tilting her hips so that the head of his cock was wedged tightly just inside her. Spike was panting, his breath washing over her while Buffy was desperately trying to gain control. “Spike. . . love me.”
“Oh god.” And as he slid inside, the control he’d been relying on deserted him. “Fuck.”
His hips thrust hard into her, his hands clenching around hers, and there was nothing but the feel of her around him, the liquid heat enveloping him. . . the silky slide of her. . . Surrounding him, bathing him in her warmth. He groaned, unable to think, unable to be any. . . every nerve was on fire.
Buffy clung to him, her hips moving with his, her legs wrapped around his waist, anchoring them together. He was hard and solid, filling her, his cock bumping against her and all she could do was gasp and whimper.
He could feel the pressure building, gaining in intensity and speed, his thrusting increasing in speed, his balls tightening painfully and he was gasping out her name, breathing into her mouth, aching for her and he felt the fluttering, the spasming, the tightening of her pussy around his cock and Spike was lost. His orgasm rose up, engulfing both of them, breaking like a wave within her, shattering his world and reforming it into something new.
There it is. I'd like to thank all of the 34 people who reviewed the last chapter. I'm asking, please, let me know what you think. This one is really important, and if you haven't reviewed before, please, take 2 minutes and let me know what you think. Please?
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Author's Chapter Notes:
The title has been in my head for this chapter for months -- probably since I decided to write this story. I knew -- I knew that this quote should be a chapter title. To really, truly understand the sonnet that this comes from, you have to read the sonnet outloud -- with emotion. Read it until you get it, because it is quite possibly one of the truest affirmations of love ever written Enloy. Nia